


She Wants Revenge

by MoonDrenchedShores



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I'm new to tagging, Revenge, so I'm keeping it minimalistic until I get the hang of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonDrenchedShores/pseuds/MoonDrenchedShores
Summary: When Meg escapes from the depths of Hell, there's only one thing on her mind: Vengeance. Sam Winchester is the perfect vehicle for her goals. (Set between 2x13 and 2x14.)





	She Wants Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this fic on another website; with a little tweaking, I reworked it for this one. I hope you enjoy!

The first emotion to hit the demon Meg upon clawing her way out of the pit, through the outer banks of hell and onto the earth, was betrayal.

Following her exorcism, her father Azazel had left her downstairs to rot. How could he? He was the goddamn King of Hell; the last of the yellow-eyed Princes Lucifer himself had created and appointed to take charge of the growing legions of the underworld. He could have gotten her out, or even just sent someone to see if she had withstood the trip, but no.

It was as though she was dead to him despite her loyal service to the cause and his declarations of love for her and her brother Tom, as rare as those may have been. She guessed that was the case. She had probably disappointed him greatly in dealing with the Winchesters. Even so, she did remember enough about love to know that it was supposed to be unconditional.

So she came to a decision. It was rash and reckless, but she thought it might get some sort of result. She would just screw with Azazel’s plans for his special psychic children. It would likely earn her his ire, but at least it would get his attention. She knew he wouldn’t apologize, but maybe he would at least try to make amends.

The next part of the equation was choosing which of those psychic children to possess, and that was also the easiest part to solve. She would possess Sam Winchester. She held a grudge against him and his brother Dean for exorcising her in the first place anyway. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

Besides, dear Sammy was her father’s _favorite_. She would be bound to get his attention then.

Finding the younger Winchester was ridiculously easy. His pain and conflict, all of that unbridled angst, was like a siren song to her and just opened the door for her that much wider. If she didn’t know any better she would say that he practically welcomed the black smoke that made up her incorporeal form as it rushed into his mouth and took control of every nerve and every muscle, making him her very own personal meat puppet and oh, it just felt so right. She’d been so used to possessing a body, having done so for hundreds and hundreds of years before she was banished back to hell. She was old hat at this by now, even if she did have to stretch herself just a little to properly fill him.

Separating him from Dean was even easier. The boys seemed to have been drifting emotionally for some time now. They had even truly split up once before she found Sam. Dean would likely just think that his baby brother had run off again, and wouldn’t that just crush him so deliciously?

After three days of just enjoying herself in Sam’s meatsuit, crisscrossing the country in stolen automobiles, drinking hard liquor and smoking menthol cigarettes—which she would have done anyway but the knowledge that she was damaging Sam’s body in particular made the burn of the alcohol and the chill of the smokes that much sweeter—she began to delve into his mind, reading his thoughts and memories. At first she was just looking for a way to break him and drive Dean into submission, but she came upon information that was far more interesting to her.

Way down deep in Sam’s subconscious, she uncovered his buried dreams. Hopes and fantasies that he had abandoned when his little girlfriend got herself fried. She gathered that this was precisely what darling Jessica had represented to him: That perfect, normal life that was all he truly wanted but that some part of him didn’t forget that he could never have.

It was pathetic, really. She almost felt sympathy for the poor kid. What a sucker he was. _Remind me why you’re my father’s favorite, Sammy-boy?_

She didn’t toss it out, though. For reasons she couldn’t begin to understand and didn’t want to dwell on anyway, she tucked that tidbit about him away within her, determined to keep that with her even after she inevitably vacated the property.

She continued to dig. And what she found next very nearly made her regret it.

The memory was fuzzy, obstructed by blood and swollen eyelids, but what she saw was unmistakable. Her brother, her Tom, pummeling Sam into the ground outside that apartment complex in Jefferson City. That was beyond satisfying. She could imagine that he was avenging her exorcism, making up for shooting her in the heart.

But then, as abruptly as the fight started, a gunshot. Tom dropping to the ground, him and his host both dead. A bullet from the Colt. The real Colt.

Fired by none other than Dean Winchester.

The seething rage that boiled in her put the fires of hell to shame. She screamed, writhed, twisted and burned, giving Sam a physical fever that lasted for twelve hours, but she didn’t care.

Her brother was gone.

Her Tom had been murdered.

The unadulterated fury that set her alight was dreadful and terrifying even to her, but underneath it all was unspeakable pain and grief like she had never known, not in her two thousand years on earth, as if someone had stuck a serrated knife in her chest and twisted and twisted and twisted until she could only beg for some form of mercy.

Gone.

Dead.

Killed.

Murdered.

Gone dead killed murdered gone dead killed murdered gonedeadkilledmurdered…

Winchester.

In all honesty when she first resurfaced she had been lost. She could admit that. Her only clear objective was to get her father to notice her again. But now…oh, now she had resolve. A purpose. A cause to serve, even if he was a dead one.

The next day she had a mission.

She stole another car, a beaten-up VW Beetle, and some malt liquor and a pack of menthols from a corner store, but this time not for kicks. She needed them to clear her head.

And okay, maybe whipping the empty bottle at the cashier’s head was going a little too far, but he’d looked at her funny and she was clearly pissed anyway even through Sam’s dewy, sensitive eyes, so he was asking for it, really.

The nearest hunter she knew of was a guy named Steve Wandell. She drove over to his house, and he just let her in without even testing her. Perfect. What a stupid son of a bitch.

Killing him was the best part. It left her a little empty, of course, what with how miniscule a chance Wandell stood against her, but slitting throats was always fun.

Like any good hunter he had security cameras, so she made sure the act was caught on tape before hightailing it back to the motel where she was staying. And her plan was set into smooth motion.

She had turned Sam into a murderer. Made him go Dark Side.

And now poor Dean would be forced to kill him, just as he’d promised dear old John.

(Ironic that their pops had ended up downstairs, by the way. She’d have to tell Dean at some point. The look on his face would be priceless.)

If she couldn’t keep her brother, then Dean couldn’t keep his. An eye for an eye and all that.

The next morning she called Dean. She put on her very best scared baby Sammy impression, and just as she expected, Dean came running.

Time for vengeance.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this fic! It's my first to be published here, but constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> As are out-and-out compliments, but...I'll leave that up to you.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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